The folder hit Adam’s desk with a crack that echoed through the room, loud enough to make him flinch.
“Care to explain,” I said, voice sharp and clipped, “why your credentials were used to rewrite voting logs?”
He blinked at me, slow and stupid. Or pretending to be. His fingers tensed where they rested on the keyboard, as if calculating whether he could fake his way out of this.
“I–I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he said, tone falsely light.
I didn’t bother sitting. My hand gripped the back of the chair across from him as I leaned in. “Don’t play dumb. Emma pulled your keystrokes. We have everything.”
He froze. There it was–the flicker of panic, quick and undeniable, behind the eyes.
“I left my laptop unattended,” he offered quickly. “Anyone could have—”
“Enough.” I stepped around the desk, folder flipping open in my hands. I laid the records out one by one–metadata, access logs, keystroke timestamps. Each page made the room quieter. The weight of proof made the air feel heavier, like gravity had tripled.
He slumped, shoulders collapsing in on themselves. “It was Jenny,” he muttered. “She told me it was harmless. That we just needed a little insurance. I didn’t think it would matter.”
“You altered active legislation, Adam.”
He wouldn’t meet my eyes. “She said I needed to feel important. That if I helped her, maybe I’d have a seat at the table. That people would finally see what I was capable of.”
“You wanted recognition,” I said. “So you sold your integrity for a footnote.”
He hesitated, then nodded, almost imperceptibly.
I pulled out my phone, thumbed open the voice recorder, and hit record. “Say it again.”
He looked at the phone, then back at me. “I… I altered the drafts. I sent them to Jenny. I just wanted to matter.”
I stopped the recording and forwarded it directly to Beta’s secured line.
“You’re lucky I’m giving you a chance to resign,” I said. “Write your letter. Make it clean. Save what little dignity you have left.”
I turned to leave, but paused at the door, looking over my shoulder.
“Next time you feel small,” I said, voice even and cold, “try earning something instead of stealing it. You always made me feel small, Adam–like I was lucky to be standing beside you, like I owed you space I carved for myself. But now everyone sees it. You weren’t my partner. You were the dead weight I carried while pretending it was teamwork.”
He didn’t speak. He just stared at the papers on his desk, eyes vacant.
Word spread like wildfire. It always did.
By the time I stepped into the west corridor, eyes were already following me. I caught whispers behind coffee cups. A logistics officer gave me a double take before disappearing into an elevator. Two guards snapped to attention as I passed.
I didn’t slow down. I didn’t smile. I just kept walking. There was a ripple of presence around me now–gravity had shifted. Not everyone knew what had happened, but they could feel it. And they knew it had come from me.
Jenny found me outside the archives just before midday. Her heels echoed like gunshots, sharp and fast.
1/2
Chapter 64
+25 BONUS
“You think you’ve won something?” she hissed, closing the space between us. “You just made enemies in every direction.”
I met her eyes with a level gaze. “Then I’ll start keeping a list.”
She sneered. “You’re so sure of yourself. So righteous. But we both know what you are.”
“I’m someone who knows what side of history I want to stand on.”
She laughed–cold and bitter. “You’re just playing hero in a story that isn’t yours. You don’t belong in this world.”
“Funny,” I said, folding my arms, “that’s what I thought about you.”
We stood there in silence. She looked like she wanted to say more, but then she didn’t. She just turned and walked away, spine stiff, steps forced and fast.
